


My Family and Other Animals

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: McFly
Genre: Animal Transformation, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight animals McFly have never been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Family and Other Animals

**Author's Note:**

> For [wordsaremyfaith](http://wordsaremyfaith.livejournal.com/) ♥

**i.**  
 _There's something strange about today_ , Harry thinks. He can't put his finger on it, though. It's a normal Tuesday in summer, he's gliding along on the pond as usual.

Danny glides past and quacks in greeting. Harry quacks a hello back and returns to trying to work out what's up with today. Every time he thinks maybe he's got some sort of idea, it flits away from him again.

He dunks his head underwater, scoops up some plants, and sits back up to swallow them as the water gets filtered out of his bill.

 _Oh, that's it. I'm a duck._

*

 **ii.**  
When Tom is tipped into one of those bags, Dougie knows he'll never see him again unless he does something _fast_. He dives in after Tom, hoping the human isn't looking, and keeps as close as he can. Tom brushes their tails together happily, and the bag is tied up and plonked on the shelf. Dougie watches as the human moves in and out of his line of sight, carrying giant stuffed animals, opening shutters, yelling something.

"I'm so glad I got to you in time," Dougie communicates. "It would've been awful if we'd been in separate bags."

"It would," Tom replies, keeping close to him. "Let's see if we can look like one fish so he'll let someone take us home."

It's a busy day on the fairground stall, and it's late afternoon when a human woman throws three darts at the target and wins. She points at their bag, so the human running the stall takes it down and hands it to her. Her face appears huge and distorted through the plastic. She opens her mouth and sounds come out, which is a strange way to talk, if you ask Dougie.

"Come on," he communicates, "let's go home."

*

 **iii.**  
Tom can hear Dougie in the hall, greeting the next person who might be moving in. They come closer to the room Tom's in as Dougie says, "I hope you don't mind birds."

When he and another human come into the room, Dougie puts his thumb up and Tom whistles just like Dougie taught him. "Tom," Dougie's voice mock-warns, "behave."

"Hello," the stranger says. "I don't mind birds at all, I've got a budgie myself. Not a green one like yours." Tom ruffles his feathers. "I think he likes me." The human is grinning at Dougie, who goes pink.

"Handsome," Tom interjects.

"Thanks," the stranger grins.

"Come on, Harry." Dougie coughs. "I'll show you the kitchen."

"Pieces of eight," Tom adds, and Harry laughs.

Three days later, Tom is trimming his beak on a block of wood when Harry comes back, this time with boxes and a cage containing a blue bird who whistles at Tom.

"Danny," Harry says, "this is Tom. Tom, this is Danny." Turning to Dougie, Harry adds, "I named him after Danny Briggs."

"Oh," Dougie says, sort of nodding. Harry sets Danny's cage down next to Tom's, and he and Dougie grab boxes and head up the stairs.

"Hello," Tom says.

Danny tilts his head and squawks, "Nice to meet you."

It's been so long since there was a bird around talking Tom's native language. Tom squawks back, "It's good here. Lots to do, human company. Good to have another bird around, though."

Danny hops towards him. "My human's good to me, I'm sure yours will be and all."

The humans let them out of their cages that night while the noisy box is on. Danny hops up to Tom and starts grooming him.

"I like it here," Danny squawks, and Tom grooms him back happily.

*

 **iv.**  
Dougie is woken up by a nose being buried in his fur. He opens his eyes just as Harry's whiskers start approaching.

He springs away from him. "What was that for?" he squeals.

Harry purrs softly and starts running out of the room, looking over his shoulder. Dougie wishes he could sigh like a human, but follows anyway.

Harry takes him downstairs, to where one of their humans, Tom, is sitting on the sofa wearing that soft dressing gown that's nice to lie on. Tom is practically vibrating, and Harry leaps onto his lap to knead his paws in and out of the dressing gown.

"Hi guys," Tom says, stroking Harry's head. "What's up, Dougs Bunny?"

Dougie leaps onto the sofa and tries to lollop onto Tom's lap so he can cuddle Harry and go back to sleep, but there isn't quite enough room. He ends up with his back legs on the sofa, front half on Tom's leg, nose straining to reach Harry's fur. Harry turns around so they can rub noses, and Harry rubs his cheek along Dougie's head.

"Awww." Tom scritches Harry's head, stroking Dougie's back with his other hand.

Danny appears in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. "Do you know what time it is?" he mutters.

"It's _Christmastime_!" Tom beams. "And look, look how cute." He points to the cat and rabbit on his lap. Dougie has settled his head between Harry's head and leg, and Harry is purring. Dougie grinds his teeth softly.

"Adorable." Danny yawns widely. "I suppose you want to open presents?"

"Well _of course_. I left the coffee stuff out for you. I _was_ going to make it myself, but I'm sort of stuck now." Harry resettles his head so he's snuggling Dougie's a little bit more.

"All right, all right, give me ten minutes," Danny says.

Half an hour later, Harry is playing delightedly with scraps of wrapping paper while Dougie gnaws on some of his favourite hay and watches. Tom and Danny disappeared a while ago, and there are noises that usually come before weird smells. Humans eat the strangest things, in Dougie's opinion, but then so do cats. Harry bats a red-and-gold scrap half way across the room, then leaps in the air to attack it from above. Dougie hops over, Harry jumping over him to bat the paper towards him. Dougie binkies, races off, and Harry gives chase.

*

 **v.**  
It takes Tom about three weeks to work it out, after they meet. "Listen," he says, the signal not great so his voice keeps dropping out for half a word, "you go to some mysterious relative last weekend and can't tell me what you did, you _missed Saturday night_ , and you have a really well-developed sense of smell. Like, seriously, nobody has that good a sense of smell. And in the picture you sent me of your guitar today, there were what looked like marks on your wrists from some kind of restraints. Now, either you're secretly a dog who's really in to BDSM, or you're a werewolf. Countless horror films have taught me which is more likely."

Danny sighs. "Fine. If you tell anyone —"

"Why would I tell anyone? Who'd believe me? _Are_ you into BDSM?"

"No, and you wouldn't be either if you spent three nights a month chained up." He shudders. "Puts you right off."

It turns out that Tom is amazing, and when Harry and Dougie join the band and they all get a house together, Tom covers for him for the first full moon. Danny heads home to Bolton and chains himself up in the cellar, but when he gets back the next morning, weak and shaking, Dougie corners him.

"Tom said you were ill last night," he says, shrewd. "You can tell me if there's anything weird going on, you know."

Danny has never been one for lying when he doesn't have to. He's mostly compulsively honest, but this is one thing he's learned to be cagey about. "I'm a werewolf," he says, and Dougie's eyes go wide.

"Seriously? That whole ..." He gestures wildly. Danny isn't quite sure what he's going for. "I mean, you're — werewolves are _real_?"

"Yeah." He clings to his cup of tea, sipping. The milk's going to go bad in twelve hours, they'd better use it up.

"Oh." Dougie's silent for a minute, but he doesn't leave, so Danny waits. "That must suck."

Surprised, Danny just says, "It does, yeah."

"Sorry, mate." Dougie puts a hand on his arm, squeezes reassuringly.

"Thanks." Danny takes another sip of his tea and starts to feel better.

It's four months before Harry's convinced. Danny tells him after the second night of that first full moon, and he laughs. "Right, and I'm a vampire," he says, and Danny punches him hard in the arm.

From the second full moon since they moved in, Danny sets his room up with chains. He can't keep travelling, especially as the year goes on. Tom keeps an eye on him, and so does Harry, once he's witnessed the change and finally believes him. Dougie shouts moral support through the door, mostly.

After that, Danny spends the nights of the full moon curled up in his room with music blasting from the others' rooms, and even in his wolf state, he can feel calm knowing he has his best friends outside to make sure he's okay.

*

 **vi.**  
Harry shuts himself in his bedroom again with the book, and concentrates on the initial spell. It's his fifth attempt, and so far all he's managed are some vague feathery feelings.

He concentrates, focuses, _wills_ the spell to work. His arms begin to feel the tiniest bit like wings, and ... that's it.

"Don't worry," Dougie says when he emerges and kicks the nearest wall. "Come on, it's really complicated magic. I'm sure it takes every Animagus a while."

Harry throws himself down onto the neighbouring armchair. "I know, it's just — so _frustrating_."

"Yeah." Dougie throws another stick onto the small fire in front of him. Hengist, his pet salamander, crawls closer to the middle of it.

It does take a long while for Harry to perfect the spell, gradually getting better at it. Finally, one afternoon in late May, after band practice, Harry does the spell and instantly knows it's worked. He stretches a wing out and looks at it; brown feathers on top, lighter underneath. He takes off from the floor, barges through the door, and flies over to Dougie's shoulder, where he sits.

"Whoa," Tom says, from where he was engrossed in the Daily Prophet on the sofa. "That is so cool."

"What, what is he?" Dougie tries to twist round, so Harry flies off his shoulder and onto the table. "Awesome," Dougie beams, "you're a kestrel!"

Harry flies to the floor and changes back. "I did it!" he grins, and Dougie grabs him to pull him in for a hug. Harry ends up crashing back into him and the chair, but he rights himself by steadying against Dougie's thigh, so he doesn't mind.

"Brilliant," Danny assesses. Harry turns back into a kestrel and struts around on Dougie's knees until Tom starts shooting paper balls from his wand to get him to stop.

"No appreciation for class," Harry grumbles, turning back. Dougie snorts.

Harry goes to the Ministry the next morning, changing form for documentation, and gets a signed piece of parchment stating his registration as an Animagus. He frames it when he gets home, heads to band practice and an interview for the Wizarding Wireless Network ahead of their next tour. Terry Waffling, the presenter, steers the interview about half way through to "The latest gossip about Harry, of course — I heard you were at the Ministry this morning?"

"I was," Harry smiles, wondering where the researchers _don't_ have ears. "I was getting registered, actually, as an Animagus."

"Oooh," Terry breathes, clearly surprised. "That's brilliant, congratulations! What's your form?"

"A kestrel," Harry answers.

"He's gorgeous," Dougie pipes up. "His feathers are incredible."

"I'll show you — not very entertaining for the listeners at home, I'm afraid," Harry says, apologetic, and then changes. Terry gives a small cheer, and the other three applaud.

"That's some fine spellwork, Harry," Terry says as Harry turns back.

"Thanks," Harry says. He wonders how many times he'll be asked about it this week, and whether the Daily Prophet photographer will take very long. They might be able to squeeze another interview in between shows, but they're fairly booked up as it is. Thankfully, the interview swings back to talking about the music, the tour, and the spectacular stage decorations made by Orchesta's Occasional Charms, the incredible Mrs Orchesta Willows herself being due to appear on the show the next day.

"I think that went quite well," Danny says, when they leave the WWN offices later.

"Yep. Now it's Witch Weekly, isn't it?" Tom looks up from the parchment he's consulting, and leads them off towards the next interview's building.

*

 **vii.**  
Dougie is wriggling out from under the other three, kicking the sofa as he goes, when it happens.

One second he's his usual sixteen-year-old self, trying not to let the others get _all_ of his clothes off while it's this cold, the next he's swimming in his shirt with those brown paws again.

"What the fuck?" Tom shouts, springing off him.

"Did Dougie just ... turn into a puppy?" Harry asks, sitting back and staring. Dougie finishes struggling out of the pile of his clothes and sits next to them, sighing.

"He did, yeah." Danny's face looms in close to Dougie's, though not threateningly. "You all right, mate?"

Dougie nods mournfully. Tom inches towards him, holding out a hand, and says, "Can I?"

Dougie tilts his head. Tom pats him gently, and Dougie leans into his hand. Danny puts his arms around Dougie and rests his head on his side, and Harry boops his nose.

After about a minute of this, Dougie closes his eyes and lets out a breath, relaxing. He feels the others spring off him, opens his eyes, and he's back to himself.

"Sorry," he says, "it hasn't happened in a while, I thought I'd grown out of it."

"That ... happens to you?" Harry says slowly, handing him his jeans but not breaking eye contact. Dougie grabs the clothes they're holding out and scrambles into them.

"You're a werepuppy?" Tom asks. He sounds half incredulous, half cautious.

"Yeah," Dougie says. "I don't know how, I don't know why, Mum didn't want to take me to any doctors in case they made a freakshow out of me. I'm not a freak." He curls up, hugging his knees to his chest, not looking at any of them.

"Of course you're not," Danny says, throwing an arm over his shoulders.

"You could never be a freak," Harry adds, scooting closer and wrapping his arm around Dougie's waist. He kisses Dougie's hair reassuringly.

"Definitely not. You're just ... our Dougie," Tom says, smiling at him, and Dougie feels suddenly safe with all of them.

"So what makes it happen?" Harry asks. "You said it had been a while."

"Yeah, um, not since I was a kid. It's just ... when I'm um, feeling cornered, and anxious, and want to get away." He stares down at his knees as he says this.

Harry and Danny hug him at the same time. It's sort of awkward, but comforting. All three of them say, "I'm so sorry," at the same time. Dougie starts smiling.

"It's okay," he says. "I've been having a bad day, it just ... caught me at the worst time. I don't mind usually."

"We'll look after you," Harry declares. "Don't worry, we'll make sure you're okay."

"Bloody right we will," Danny says, nodding.

"You've got us now," Tom finishes.

It doesn't happen again for a while. The other three have his back, and he talks a lot of stuff out with them in their heart-to-hearts, so he feels better a lot of the time. One day, though, there are stories in the papers about them and an interviewer asks too many probing questions and he holds it together until the very end of the interview. As soon as it's over, Dougie bolts from the room. As he rounds a corner his perspective is suddenly several feet lower, and he runs on.

"Who let a dog in here?" someone shouts, but he's still running. The interview was in the studio they're doing the photoshoot in, on the ground floor of the magazine's offices, so he just sprints right out of the door.

There's a park a few streets away, and if he can get there he'll have cover and can hide in the bushes. He scatters some people on the pavement, and somebody shouts something, but he's running full tilt, ears flying back, paws in perfect unison.

There's a bush not far into the park, and he crawls inside it. Ten minutes later, that's where Harry finds him, talks him down, hands him his clothes. There's something about Harry's voice that makes Dougie feel better, and soon he's dressed and being hugged soundly.

"Come on," Harry says. "I've got you."

*

 **viii.**  
Ten PM on the 25th December, Tom flops on the sofa. "It must be brilliant being a cat," he sighs, watching Leia curl over. "I wish I was a cat."

Gi reaches over to pat him on the head. "I know you do, love."

Tom feels pretty sleepy for the rest of the night. It's probably down to the food and festivities and getting up at six, but he stays awake until midnight so he's enjoyed all of Christmas Day. He crawls into bed, dislodging Marvin, and cuddles Gi until they fall asleep.

He wakes up to Gi's voice calling his name from what sounds like far off. He opens his eyes. Marvin's tail is tickling his nose, so he moves it, but something's odd about the situation. He can't quite put his finger on it. He feels strange, oddly warm, and ...

He sits up suddenly. He has a tail.

Tom looks down, stretches one leg out, and twists around to see his back. He is definitely cat-shaped this morning. From what he can see, he's a brown tabby with huge white patches. Marvin looks sleepily at him, yawns — and freezes.

He moves closer and sniffs. "Tom?" he says. It with a tilt of his head and a trilling sound, but Tom understands him.

"Marvin?" he says, realising he's speaking Cat. He bowls Marvin over joyously. "Marvin! I can talk to you! How did you know it was me?"

"You smell like you," Marvin replies, rubbing their heads together. "Why aren't you human?"

"I don't know." Tom settles into Marvin's side. "Where's Gi?"

"Somewhere," Marvin answers, curling around him. "She woke up and started calling for you."

"Shit," Tom sits up, "she won't know it's me."

"Maybe you could let her know somehow," Marvin says, washing a paw.

Tom jumps down from the bed and follows the sound of Gi's voice. He finds her in the kitchen, making toast with her phone to her ear.

Tom hears the faint sound of his phone ringing upstairs. Gi sighs after a minute, then spots him.

"Hello there, kitty," she says. "It's nice of you to come over, but you shouldn't be in our bed, okay? That's for cats who live here."

"I'm Tom," he tries to say, but it all comes out in body language and a _mrrrawr_. Frustrated, he jumps onto the nearest chair and tries to get closer to her so he can rub against her arm. "I'm Tom," he repeats, louder.

"I don't have any food for you," Gi says, sounding slightly exasperated. "You should go home for that."

"I _am_ home." He feels like crying. It's Boxing Day, he should be lounging around eating chocolate and watching Christmas specials and all his second-favourite Christmas films. Instead, he's a cat and his finacée can't even understand him.

"I'm sorry, we only have enough food in for our own cats." Gi shakes her head sadly. "You're very cute, but I need to find Tom."

"I'm here," he says, mournful, and drops to the floor again. He can't make her understand.

Aurora walks over to him. "You're a cat," she observes, wrapping her tail around her paws. "Why?"

"I don't know," Tom sighs. "I just woke up like this."

Aurora nods. "We should go and see the Wisecat."

"There's a Wisecat?"

Gi walks past, munching her toast, and Tom resits the urge to follow her out of the room. "Yes," Aurora says. "I'll get the others. We know the way."

"I had no idea you were so ... no, I always knew you were cool."

Aurora purrs softly at him, then runs towards the other sitting room. Tom heads upstairs. Gi is getting dressed, and shoos him out of the room. He sits outside the door, staring at his paws, and when she opens it again he jumps on the bed to wake Marvin. He yawns, stretches, and leads Tom downstairs again.

Tom is glad for his fur when they go outside. The others lead him through the trees for a while, and the smells of the wood accost Tom with their intensity. Animals' footsteps, excrement, the plants, sweat from humans, everything hits his nose. By the time they get to a small clearing coated in frost-covered leaves, he's reeling.

Leia digs her claws into one of the trees and makes loud scraping sounds. "Enter," comes the meow. They slip into a crack in the trunk, one by one; it's hollow.

A black cat sits on a bed of dry leaves. "This one," he sniffs Tom's tail, "is human."

"I wished to be a cat," he remembers. "I wish I were human again."

"Outside!" the Wisecat yowls, and Tom shoots out of the tree just as he feels a rush of cold and realises he has human limbs again.


End file.
